


Heirlooms

by BiconBane



Series: BAMF Prince Of Hell High Warlock [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 2.13 coda, BAMF Magnus Bane, Blood and Injury, Fallen Angel Magnus Bane, Hurt Magnus Bane, M/M, Prince of Hell Magnus Bane, Seraph Blades, Sword Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiconBane/pseuds/BiconBane
Summary: Magnus can hear Alec’s cries as the dirt of Dudael swirls around them. They’re distant, but wracked with pain, and Magnus will always hear Alec when he calls.He runs a thumb over the ring he had stored away in his pocket before leaving his loft. A last resort, a desperate measure. Magnus hears Alec beg him to put a stop to this, and through eyes blurry with pain, he can see Azazel stalk towards him. He doesn’t hesitate slide the ring on his finger.Magnus feels it like fire, first. It pours through his body like lava running down a volcano. He closes his eyes, bearing the pain, and waiting until the fire settles into his veins and becomes nothing but pure power.





	Heirlooms

Magnus can hear Alec’s cries as the dirt of Dudael swirls around them. They’re distant, but wracked with pain, and Magnus will always hear Alec when he calls.

 

He runs a thumb over the ring he had stored away in his pocket before leaving his loft. A last resort, a desperate measure. Magnus hears Alec beg him to put a stop to this, and through eyes blurry with pain, he can see Azazel stalk towards him. He doesn’t hesitate slide the ring on his finger.

 

Magnus feels it like fire, first. It pours through his body like lava running down the side of a volcano. He closes his eyes, bearing the pain, and waiting until the fire settles into his veins and becomes nothing but pure power.

 

When Magnus opens his eyes again, Azazel stands before him. He’s bending down, reaching for Magnus’ face, and then his fingertips press against Magnus cheek, his mouth opening. His eyes widen when Magnus smiles.

 

Magic, red and angry, gathers at Magnus’ fingertips, and he launches it into Azazel’s chest before the demon can move. Azazel flies backward and Magnus stands. He brushes some of the dirt off his coat.

 

Azazel presses his hand to his chest where Magnus hit him and smiles. “Well,” he says, “ _ that _ was unexpected.” He rises fluidly, and unbuttons his suit’s jacket. His eyes unerringly find the ring that now sits on Magnus’ left ring finger. “Where did you get that?”

 

“I’m sure you can guess,” Magnus says, as he looks around quickly. The Shadowhunters are still on the ground, their faces still tight in clear pain, but they are no longer screaming and thrashing agony. It would have to do.

 

Azazel laughs lightly. “I think I can,” he says, and he flexes his left hand where his own ring sits in the same place Magnus’ does.

 

Magnus says nothing, but he rolls his shoulders back and takes a slow step to the right, towards Jace and his prone body. Azazel circles to his right, a smirk on his lips. “You should be careful playing with things like that, nephew,” he says.

 

Magnus does not let himself flinch. He knew what putting that ring on would mean, and he would not let Azazel rattle him in front of the Shadowhunters, in front of Alec. Magnus was, after all, about to show them something  _ much _ worse.

 

“It’s not the first time I’ve used one of these, uncle,” Magnus says, and Azazel’s smirk only grows.

 

“Oh yes,” he says. “I do recall.”

 

“Then you’ll recall it didn’t go too well for you then,” Magnus says. He’s by Jace’s side now, and he bends over, hand hovering above the hilt of seraph blade at Jace’s side. “You really wish to test me again?”

 

Azazel’s pale power gathers in his hands and begins to solidify. “Oh yes,” he repeats, softer this time. “I do.”

 

Magnus grabs the blade and dodges out of the way as Azazel launches himself forward, his power gathering at his heels to propel himself across the courtyard in the blink of an eye. A sword cleaves down where Magnus was just standing, shattering stone and spraying dirt.

 

Azazel’s sword is gold. Markings not unlike runes line the blade and they glow a dark, menacing red. Its guard was curled upward into clawed hands, and the pummel was shaped into a face twisted in terror. A large, blood red gem that had no name in Earth’s dimension sat at the top of the hilt.

 

Magnus flips the hilt of the seraph blade over in his hand. His glamor falls and he takes a breath. If he had looked behind him, he would have seen Alec begin to push himself up, struggling as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. Magnus would have seen Alec stare at him in awe, at the seraph blade that he gripped so surely.

 

But Magnus does not look back. He stares Azazel down, he looks his enemy in the eye, and wills the seraph blade to obey him.

 

The blade manifests, the runes etched so painstaking into its surface glowing a dark red to match those on Azazel’s blade. The combined lights are so bright they bathe the entire courtyard in the color of blood.

 

Azazel’s grin is nothing sort of monstrous. Gone are the blue eyes he had chosen for his humanoid body, and in their place are pools of inky black. He holds his sword loosely, its tip pointed downward. 

 

With a snap of his finger and a twist of his wrist, Magnus throws a red ball of magic at Azazel. It crackles on its way towards the demon, but not as loud as Azazel’s laugh. He dodges out of the way, and Magnus springs forward.

 

Azazel deflects the seraph blade easily, but Magnus is ready. He kicks out with magic reinforcing the blow, and catches Azazel on his knee. Azazel grunts, loses balance, and Magnus aims his next blow for the demon’s chest.

 

Pure power erupts between them like a hurricane. Magnus is only just fast enough to erect a shimmering blue shield. He’s still shoved away, but its better than ending up like a fly on a windshield.

 

Azazel’s blade cuts through the maelstrom of his magic and slams into Magnus’ shield. Spiderweb cracks had already ripped through it under the onslaught of Azazel’s magical attack, and it shatters under the sheer strength he put behind his blow.

 

Their two blades shriek when they meet this time, and the runes glow brighter. Azazel lips are pursed as he gazes at Magnus. His face is carefully blank, but his eyes are full of rage. “I will be having words with your father when I see him again,” he says.

 

Magnus smirks. “That’ll be soon.” Magic gathers at his fingertips.

 

Alec groans as he pushes himself to his knees. His ears are ringing, his head is pounding, and his skin tingles with the vaguely painful sensation of standing too close to a fire. Still, it  _ is _ better than what he had felt only moments ago; he has no word for that other than agony.

 

Agony is also a good word for what he feels in his chest right now. It is not a physical pain, but it might as well be for all it hurts. It’s fear, Alec knows, because he’s only felt anything like it once before. And it’s only and always for Magnus.

 

Magnus, who stands in the middle of the courtyard, locked in a duel with a Prince of Hell. Magnus, who holds a seraph blade in his hands, one that should burn him with the fire of the heavens.

 

Alec watches him trade blows with the demon, watches him move as fast as any Shadowhunter Alec had ever seen before, his red magic crackling down his legs and up his arms, pooling at his fingertips as he dodges one of Azazel’s powerful swings, and throws a ball of power.

 

His coat swirls around his legs and his strikes, magical and not, are precise. With the blade in hand, his cat eyes glowing with power, Magnus looks like a king, a god. The longer Alec watches him wield the seraph blade, the more sure he is that Magnus will win. And yet…

 

And yet, he can not help but still feel afraid. Azazel’s mere presence feels dangerous, and his blows have a power behind them that Alec doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. Alec longs to stand, to go to his love’s side, and fight this monster together, but his legs are heavy underneath him. He believes in Magnus, but if he could just stand, if he could just be by his side, then there would be no reason to fear.

 

And then it’s over. The agony of fear is replaced by something so much worse.

 

Azazel’s sword cuts through Magnus’ side like butter. Magnus sucks in a breath, the impact of the blow rattling his teeth. The sword slips from his hand, clatters on the stone ground, and its blade is gone in an instant. The pain hasn’t reached him yet; no, Alec’s ragged and desperate cry of his name hurts so much more than the steel of Azazel’s sword.

 

Azazel smiles, slow and smug. “You had to know this was the outcome, Magnus,” he says. “Lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice.”

 

He puts his weight behind the sword and forces it further into Magnus’ stomach. The pain bursts into life suddenly, like a surge of electricity, and Magnus traps a scream behind his teeth. His body curls over the blade and his chest heaves. He stares down at Azazel’s blade, slick with his blood.

 

“You won’t win,” Magnus says, and his voice sounds far away. 

 

Azazel smiles almost sympathetically. He leans forward, his face inches from Magnu’s. “You really believe you little Shadowhunter  _ friends _ can stop me?”

 

“No,” Magnus whisperers and the vindictive pleasure that comes with Azazel’s eyes going wide almost drowns out the searing pain. “I don’t.”

 

Azazel’s human form rips apart in bursts of black, blue, and orange, leaving only a small pile of dust below Jace’s small seraph dagger Magnus had taken from him before the fight even began.

 

Blood spurts from Magnus’ hand as he grasps the blade of Azazel’s sword, steading it from where it still sticks out of his gut. Its razor sharp edge leave deep cuts in Magnus’ fingers and palm, and he distantly notes they will scar.

 

His knees hit the ground with enough force that he knows they’ll ache, but it is nothing compared to the pain in his stomach, and so he does not feel it. What he does feel is the sword shifting, it’s blade digging further upward and through. It pulls at his skin and inner organs and rips and slices whatever it touches. It brushes against his bones and his throat fills with bile. Adrenaline fading fast, foe vanquished, now all Magnus can focus on is pain, and he feels every inch of the blade.

 

At first, he doesn’t hear Alec calling his name, or even his hand on his shoulder, his cheek, his chest, fluttering nervously around the sword. But finally, Alec gets through to him, and he looks up into his boyfriend’s hazel eyes.

 

They’re terrified. Alec is terrified. It makes sense, really, the guy he’s in love with has a sword through the right side of his stomach.

 

“Magnus,” Alec is saying, “Magnus, I’m going to -- ”

 

“Don’t pull it out,” Magnus says immediately. Alec’s face crumples and he looks utterly confused. “Blood loss,” Magnus explains quickly. “Call… Catarina.”

 

Magnus shifts his weight to the left, where his phone is tucked away in his jacket.  Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jace and Clary huddled together. Jace’s face is pale, his jaw slightly open, and Clary has a hand over her mouth as tears glisten in her eyes. Alec’s hand shakes as it slides quickly across his outer thigh and hip and into his pocket.

 

Alec unlocks the phone and reaches up, handing it off to Jace with the quickest of glances. His parabatai looks truly awful, Alec distantly notes, but he is entirely unable to keep his gaze off Magnus for more than a few seconds at a time.

 

“Sorry,” Magnus mutters as his body sags further over the sword and Alec  _ doesn’t know what to do _ . He can’t help, he’s afraid to even touch Magnus even if every bit of his being is screaming for him to.

 

“No!” Alec says, and it’s like the word is punched out of him. “No, no, don’t -- don’t be  _ sorry _ .”

 

Magnus whispers something that resembled the word  _ okay _ , Jace is speaking in hushed tones to who Alec desperately hopes is Magnus’ healer friend Catarina, and Clary sobs quietly into her hand. She looks about ten seconds away from a complete breakdown, and Alec doesn’t know if he should feel annoyed with her, or jealous of her.

 

Magnus’ shoulders tremble, and for a second, Alec thinks he’s begun to cry. It takes longer than it should for him to realize Magnus is shaking in pain.

 

“Shit,” Alec mutters, and he feels tears of frustration prick at his eyes. “Magnus, I don’t know what to do. Magnus, please, tell me what to do.”

 

Magnus’ left hand flexes, slowly. “Not… sword… it’s the  _ ring _ , Alexander,” he breathes, and he looks up. His face is drawn with pain, cat eyes duller than Alec had ever seen them.

 

Alec’s eyes are drawn to it instantly. It is a large set silver ring, not unlike the other ones Magnus usually wears, if a bit smaller. But there’s something about it that makes Alec’s stomach churn and he takes a deep breath. 

 

He reaches out and ignores Magnus’ soft cry of protest. As soon as he touches it, pins and needles shoot through his body and he grits his teeth.

 

“Alec,” Magnus says quietly. “Don’t.”

 

Alec gently slides it off Magnus’ finger, and the moment it leaves his skin, the slight pain explodes. A dark, poisonous fire ripping through his veins and devouring his skin. Alec  _ screams _ and drops the ring; it bounces silently on the stone ground.

 

“You… you were wearing that?” Alec asks, tearing his eyes away from the ring to stare at his boyfriend.

 

Magnus’ lips are twisted into a dark, pained approximation of a smile. “Had to,” he says, and Alec really, really doesn’t have a response for that.

 

“Well, I see you’re still as useless as ever without me.”

 

Magnus’ smile turns real at the sound of Catarina’s voice. She’s sinking into a kneel beside Alec when Magnus raises his head, and Alec startles. He wonders if it’s inappropriate to feel proud that Alec really only has eyes for him at this exact moment.

 

“You know I am,” Magnus says. Catarina wears a crisp, professional mask of emotions that would work on most. But Magnus had known her for centuries, and it’s easy for him to see crinkles around her eyes, the furrow in her brow, the tightness at the sides of her mouth that all mean fear.

 

“I haven’t seen you this worried since -- ”

 

“Since you almost got your arm cut off,” Catarina says, primly, as her hands begin to glow with her comforting blue magic. “Yes, I remember.”

 

“I was going to say the time Ragnor got a bullet in the chest,” Magnus says thoughtfully. “But what do I know.”

 

She huffs under her breath, and says to Alec, “can you give us some space, please.”

 

Alec had been looking between the two of them, but now he stares at Cat. His eyes are glazed over and he shakes his head just slightly. Catarina’s magic is already doing wonders to beat back the chill of blood loss, but that little movement warmed his heart too.

 

“Cat,” Magnus murmurs, “he can stay.”

 

Cat shoots him a fondly exasperated look at Alec settles in on his left side. He smiles back at her, and lets his eyes slide closed. Fear of the dark, Magnus knows, is a child’s fear, but sometimes it crawls up in him just the same. But with his two lights at his side, he is not afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> MY TRIFECTA OF BAMF MAGNUS IS COMPLETE.
> 
> I'm still gonna write a lot of Bamf Magnus tho.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked this!


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